


Sip the Wind Through Lips of Lust

by barbitone



Series: Voltron Fanfiction [23]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Banquets, F/M, POV Ven'tar (Voltron), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Dynamics, Sex, Some Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-17 23:35:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17570072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barbitone/pseuds/barbitone
Summary: Prince Lotor wasn’t like anything Ven’tar had expected. He wasbeautiful- tall and lean with long flowing white hair, his armor sleek and elegant and perfectly tailored to show off his wide shoulders and narrow waist. There was some sort of small strange creature perched on his shoulder, watching her with narrowed eyes as it wrapped its tail around Prince Lotor’s neck. The prince stroked the creature’s back with startling gentleness.Ven’tar clasped her hands behind her, trying to focus, trying to remind herself what he was. He was Galra, a conqueror and an occupier, an enemy. He would be just like the others, all Galra were the same- vicious and cruel.





	Sip the Wind Through Lips of Lust

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [hashtag_anthems](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hashtag_anthems/pseuds/hashtag_anthems) for the beta!
> 
> Title is from [Pools by Glass Animals](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HQYC2EfzZZw) (a verry ventor song imo)

 

* * *

 

Ven’tar wiped her palms nervously on her robes, her heart fluttering wildly. She’d taken a mild sedative in preparation but it wasn’t enough, not nearly enough. The door of the Galra shuttle opened and he stepped out, their new Governor- Prince Lotor.

Ven’tar smiled up at him, trying to hide her fear and confusion.

He wasn’t like anything she’d expected. He was _beautiful_ \- tall and lean with long flowing white hair, his armor sleek and elegant and perfectly tailored to show off his wide shoulders and narrow waist. There was some sort of small strange creature perched on his shoulder, watching her with narrowed eyes as it wrapped its tail around Prince Lotor’s neck. The prince stroked the creature’s back with startling gentleness.

Ven’tar clasped her hands behind her, trying to focus, trying to remind herself what he was. He was Galra, a conqueror and an occupier, an enemy. He would be just like the others. All Galra were the same- vicious and cruel. He was flanked by twelve hulking sentries as he walked towards her.

“Greetings, Prince Lotor,” she said with a deep bow. “I am Ven’tar. I am to be the liaison between you and our people.”

“Greetings, Ven’tar,” he said and reached out to take her hand before bowing just as deeply as she had. She couldn’t help shivering at his touch, suddenly unsure. None of the others had ever bowed. Most of them had never even bothered learning her name, much less pronouncing it correctly.

He let go of her and stepped back, looking past her at the city laid out below.

“Your home is beautiful,” he said with a small smile.

“That is kind of you to say, Prince Lotor,” she said.

“It is not a kindness, just a simple fact.”

She ducked her head and fought not to blush. He was just like the others, and it was her duty to take care of him just like she’d taken care of the ones that came before, no matter how much it pained her.

“If you are ready- I can show you to your quarters so you may rest from your journey.”

“I don’t need to rest, but I’d quite like to see more of your city.”

“Certainly, Prince Lotor,” Ven’tar said with another bow. “We have some vargas before the welcoming feast, would you care to walk with me?”

“That would be wonderful, thank you Ven’tar,” he said with a small nod.

She was surprised to see him leave his sentries behind, she was surprised to see his interest in her home and her people. He asked endless questions- about the food, the architecture, the culture. He walked quickly, seeming to forget himself sometimes as he lost himself in some new wonder, and it was a struggle to keep up with him.

None of the others had ever expressed such interest, asked questions like this. But that didn’t mean anything. His soft smiles didn’t mean anything, the way his eyes glittered with delight didn’t mean anything, and neither did his beauty. He was just like the rest.

The next few vargas passed in a blur, and then Ven’tar was showing him to the palace and the banquet hall, where they’d prepared his welcome feast. They’d held such feasts for the others as well, of course. They’d seemed disgusted with the food, the music, the frivolity of it all. But Prince Lotor seemed delighted instead as he took in the hall and the feast tables, the dancers and the musicians.

“You honor me,” Prince Lotor said with a smile.

Ven’tar bit her lip uncertainly and bowed so she wouldn’t have to look at that smile, at his soft lips and warm sparkling eyes. She led him to the head table and showed him to his seat before sitting beside him. The servants came around to fill his cup with wine, to set platters of local delicacies before him. He seemed eager to try everything, the stranger the better, and still he asked _questions_ and suddenly it was such a struggle to hate him.

The music shifted towards a slower song and he watched the dancers curiously.

“Would it be too much of an imposition if I asked you to teach me this dance?” he asked, turning to her. The way he looked at her made her shiver and she averted her eyes.

“I did not think that Galra danced, Prince Lotor,” she murmured.

“Not generally, no,” he said with a warm laugh. “But I’d like to learn the ways of your people.”

“Certainly,” she said, standing.

He offered her his hand and she took it slowly before leading him down to the dance floor. The others made room for them as the guests whispered with surprise at this strange development.

She showed him where to put his hands, his feet, how to move, and then they danced, making slow circles with the others. He followed her lead easily and she tried not to enjoy the feeling of his warm hand in hers, his other hand pressed so gently to her lower back. He was so much taller than her it should have been awkward, but he moved easily, elegantly, and she didn’t feel dwarfed by him so much as… held safe and close, uplifted.

Afterwards she made sure his cup never ran dry, as was her duty, and watched him get more flushed as the evening grew on. The wine was deceptively strong, and soon he seemed to be slowing, tiring. He wasn’t quite slurring his words, but he seemed to speak with more care, taking longer and longer pauses between sentences.

Still, he lasted longer than she thought he would, drank more than the others had. But finally he pushed his chair back and stood, swaying a little on his feet.

“Thank you for this welcome, Ven’tar,” he said slowly. “But I’m afraid I feel quite- I think I’d better… I’d like to retire now.”

“Yes, Prince Lotor,” she said with a smile and a nod. “Rest well.”

“Thank you,” he said, smiling so openly at her that her heart stuttered in her chest. She summoned a servant to show him to his rooms, and then went to her own to prepare herself.

For a long time she sat at her vanity in silence, uncertain now like she’d never felt before. But it was her duty, and he was just like the others.

Music wafted in through the open windows, lilting and sweet, the remains of the celebrations still going on in the hall. They would be lighting the candles in her honor now, they would be filling the cleansing bath for her, for afterwards. Ven’tar took a deep breath and got undressed, adorning herself with flowers and perfume and slipping on a sheer silky nightdress.

She walked barefoot through the darkened halls towards Prince Lotor’s rooms, her nightdress billowing around her.

His door was locked, but of course she had the key. She was quiet, careful as she slipped inside. The room was dark but for a few candles still lit on the dining table, the nightstand. It was a hot night; the window was wide open and the curtains blew softly in the breeze, making the candle flames dance and flicker.

Her breath caught in her throat when she finally allowed herself to look at the bed, to look at _him_. He was laid out like a feast, nude but for the corner of the sheet just barely covering his hips. His skin glistened faintly with a sheen of sweat, his hair was wild over the pillows, his breathing slow and even. His creature was asleep beside him, but it woke and looked up at her as she came in.

Ven’tar swallowed nervously as she stepped closer, her heart pounding wildly now. The room smelled sweet and pleasantly musky, from the candles, from _him_. She tried to calm herself, tell herself that this time would be just like the others, but suddenly it was so difficult. He was so beautiful.

She was distracted by the creature as she stepped forward, praying that it wouldn’t make a sound, wouldn’t wake him. It yawned, revealing wickedly sharp fangs, and brushed its tail over his face. That was when she saw that his eyes were open and he was looking right at her.

Ven’tar’s blood ran cold but she forced herself to smile as she climbed onto the bed, on top of him.

“Ven’tar,” he said quietly, his voice low and rich, piercing her down to her core and making her tremble. Suddenly he didn’t seem drunk at all. He didn’t move as she settled in his lap and leaned forward. He didn’t seem particularly surprised by any of it, not even when she pressed the dagger to his throat.

He smiled and relaxed under her, tilting his head back for her blade. “This is more the kind of welcome I’d been expecting,” he murmured. His eyes were dark as he looked up at her and suddenly she couldn’t breathe. “Although I must say, I didn’t expect it to be you.”

“It is my duty,” she whispered.

“Did you kill the others as well? All seven of them?”

“Yes,” she said. She was trembling harder, dizzy and hot with anticipation and perhaps something else. All she had to do was press the knife down, but she was frozen. This was so much more difficult than it had been before.

“I’m impressed,” he said as he raised his hands to her thighs. His hands were so strong, so huge- almost large enough to encircle her thighs in his grip. “Such a pretty slip of a thing, killing seven Galra Commanders in cold blood. Before you kill me too, tell me who you are, at least. I saw the way the others looked at you, deferred to you. Who are you? A Princess? A Queen? Perhaps- an Empress?”

“I am the High Priestess,” she said, distracted by his hands on her, sliding up and under her nightdress now. She was distracted by his eyes, his smile, his muscular chest, naked and glistening with sweat. His hair looked so soft laid out over the pillows, his lips so inviting.

“I see,” he said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you at last, High Priestess Ven’tar.”

Why wasn’t he afraid? Why wasn’t she?

“You’re trembling, Ven’tar,” he whispered. “Surely you’re not afraid of me? You have me at your mercy.”

But she wasn’t trembling with fear, she was trembling at the way his hands felt, sliding so slowly upwards, and then his thumb brushed against the most intimate part of her and her lips parted around a sigh. He did it again, pressing more firmly, stroking her slit and dipping his fingers just inside before drawing his hand back to his mouth. He didn’t look away from her eyes as he licked his fingers, tasting her.

She tightened her grip over the knife as she braced her other hand on his chest, suddenly dizzy with desire. She couldn’t let herself be distracted, she had to do her duty, but-

He was still _touching_ her with his other hand, stroking her gentle and slow and her eyes fluttered shut as she pressed towards him. She could feel his hardness under her, still covered by the sheet, and she wanted it- wanted him.

“Open your eyes, High Priestess Ven’tar,” he said, and though his tone was gentle, it was a command that she couldn’t disobey. “Very good,” he murmured when she opened her eyes to look down at him. “It’s unwise to lose sight of your opponent when you have a knife trained on them.”

His fingers pressed against her, and then inside, and she gasped with surprised pleasure, her hips stuttering towards him. She wanted more, she wanted to kiss him- but this was a terrible mistake, wasn’t it? She needed to do her duty but she couldn’t, she couldn’t do it now, not with the way he was smiling up at her, pushing his fingers rhythmically into her.

He was nothing like the others.

Suddenly she wanted him more than she’d ever wanted anything, and even though she still held a knife to his throat, his hands were on her hips, his thumbs stroking the sensitive crease where her thighs met her groin. She used her free hand to pull the sheet away from him and was mesmerized by the sight of his hard cock, dusky purple in the dim light, ridged at the shaft.

She didn’t know what she was doing, her head was swimming with desire, and he was helping her, helping her raise her hips, helping her slide down onto his cock. She shuddered at the feeling of being opened, taken, impaled. It felt amazing- _he_ felt amazing.

“Prince Lotor-” she gasped.

“So polite,” he murmured, “even now. Come, High Priestess, move for me. Take me before you kill me.”

She sobbed out a helpless gasp as she started to move over him. He felt so good inside her, so hot and slick. The ridges stimulated all the most sensitive parts of her and she couldn’t get enough. She forgot everything but this- him.

He shifted suddenly and she cried out in shock as she found herself under him with her hands pinned above her head. She’d lost the knife somewhere in the sheets but that seemed far away. All she could do was stare up at him, looming over her. He was so beautiful.

He was still buried deep inside her, and she felt a pang of fear but it was so far away.

He moved slowly, carefully, bending down and angling his head so he could take her lips in a kiss. She moaned loudly at that, helplessly. His lips were just as soft as she’d imagined, just as sweet. Gradually he started moving again, thrusting into her, and it was all she could do to gasp for breath against his mouth. She wrapped her legs around his hips, trying to urge him closer, _faster_.

But he would not be moved or encouraged. He pulled back to press slick kisses to her neck, her ears, her chest, and still he moved so slowly, gently rocking into her as he kept her hands pinned to the bed above her head.

“Please-” she gasped.

“Yes, High Priestess,” he said, and she could feel his smile against her skin. “Yes- how would you like it?”

“Faster,” she managed. “Harder.”

“Like this?” he asked, finally fucking into her for real. She cried out and arched up, only to find herself trapped under his powerful body. It should have been terrifying, but instead she was filled with desire and impossible heat. He felt so good against her, so right. She couldn’t get enough.

“Tell me,” he said. “Tell me-”

“Yes,” she sobbed. “Yes, just like this, please-”

He shifted so he was holding both her wrists in one hand and then he slipped his other hand down, stroking her breasts, her side, her stomach, and then-

She keened and arched up, desperate and overwhelmed as he rubbed her clit slowly. “Like this?” he asked.

“Yes,” she gasped, “yes, yes-”

She felt trapped and taken and it was glorious in a way she’d never expected it to be, never even hoped it could be. She felt completely at his mercy and somehow _safe_ and _wanted_ and held close. He kept going, strong and relentless, and all she could do was shiver against him, open for him.

“Please, Lotor- please,” she gasped.

“Yes, Ven’tar,” he whispered back. “Anything you want, tell me, and I’ll-”

She cried out and arched against him, it was all too much- his touch was too much, his cock, his _voice_ -

Ven’tar felt her entire body tighten and spasm around him and she sobbed through her orgasm, more powerful than anything she’d ever felt before. He sped up, and then he was groaning and pulling out, stroking himself quickly before spilling over the sheets.

He let go of her wrists at last and gathered her in his arms, stroking her side so gently, smoothing his hand over her trembling thighs. He pressed soft kisses to her shoulder and her neck and suddenly she had no idea what she was doing, what she’d done.

This was all wrong, wasn’t it? She’d been meant to kill him.

He was whispering something to her but she couldn’t quite make it out. She focused, trying to listen-

“-can’t keep doing this forever. Eventually he’ll get fed up and destroy you, don’t you see? He only allowed me to come here because he wanted to be rid of me, but together we can prove him wrong. Together we can show him-”

Ven’tar closed her eyes as she fought to listen. It made no sense to her, what he was saying. The only thing she understood was his tone- warm and sincere and fond. He was nothing like the others.

“I should go,” she said at last and sat up, pulling away from him.

“As you like, High Priestess,” he said, oddly formal once again.

She had to tell them to put out the candles, to drain the bath. She had to tell them that she’d failed.

Ven’tar didn’t look back as she straightened her nightdress and went to the door, but just as she put her hand on the door knob she heard him say-

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Before she could turn there was a loud thump as the dagger she’d brought imbedded itself in the wood of the door not one inch from her face.

She looked back, wide-eyed.

Lotor was sitting up, naked and smiling as he watched her.

“You’ll need that,” he said quietly. “For when you come to kill me again.”

She smiled despite herself at that.

“Perhaps,” she said with a bow, and left the knife imbedded in the wood as she turned to leave.  


_fin._

 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr at [barbitone](http://barbitone.tumblr.com/) and pillowfort also at [barbitone](https://www.pillowfort.io/barbitone)


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